User blog:Freelancer Tucker/Darkside Chapter 2: Impact PT 1
A hushed silence fell over the White Room, the only sound Seraph could hear was his own breathing; if he focused hard enough though, he could hear his own heartbeat. This unnerved him to no end, as he stared down his supposed opponent. There were too many things wrong with this whole situation, questions that didn’t have answers, but for now he was focused on the only other individual in the room. The Spartan had stopped talked a few minutes ago, seemingly more focused on a spot on the floor then on Seraph. He wondered what was going through the armored man’s mind, he supposed he would have to kill the man if things came down to it.That didn’t seem to bother his conscious too much, he had taken lives before, this wouldn’t be a new experience for him. The sound of metal dropping to the floor, caught Seraph by surprise. His cuffs had appeared to been unlocked somehow from outside, he rubbed at his wrists where the metal had been digging into his skin. Looking closely, he couldn’t make out any damage, superficial or otherwise. Now with the use of his arms back to him, he could probably find some way to escape. However, there was something he was forgetting about, the thoughts of escaping too tantalizing for him to focus his thoughts on anything else. He looked up suddenly, only to see about a thousand pounds of metal and augmented muscle charging at him. If they weren’t already, his eyes would be bulging out of his head, as he stared wide-eyed at his opponent. Instincts barely kicking in at the last moment, he dodged to the left, narrowly avoiding getting crushed into the the wall behind him. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, it was like a breath of fresh air, his mind felt clearer; different ways to end this situation ran through it. Something was wrong though, his heart was beating faster then he remembered in previous fights, his breathing was ragged and shallow; Adrenaline or not, whatever they shot him full of to knock him out was still coursing through his system. It was making his vision blur again, his arms felt more heavy, he hadn’t noticed it when he was handcuffed, now he realized he was more than vulnerable to be dispatched by the armored man. He could see the Spartan had recovered from his crash into the wall, staring at Seraph in either preparation or in thought like he was. Seraph didn’t care which it was as long as he wasn’t being attacked at the moment. He had to take the initiative, he wasn’t going to die like this, even while still drugged. Raising his hands against their own quickly increasing fatigue, he tried to will the energy to solidify into the simplest weapon he could imagine: a pair of blades. To his surprise and dismay, nothing came. The Spartan seemed to notice this, going back to where he left off, swinging one of his fists at Seraph’s stomach. Not wanting to get the air knocked out of him, Seraph threw his arm with his remaining strength to intercept the swing. Finding his forearm hitting the armored arm of the Spartan, he could feel the very painful feedback through his bones, his flightsuit acting little more than a bandage keeping his arm from shaking off. He couldn’t focus on that, his vision was waning, and he could barely see his enemy. Seraph swung his other arm at the Spartan, hoping to crash his fist into the man’s visor, only for it to fall short; instead hitting the chest plate. The blow left a shallow dent where it had impacted, The Spartan stumbled back, seemingly in shock from the blow. Seraph gritted his teeth, trying his best to follow up the attack, bringing his now freed arm up to swing again at the Spartan. It was too slow as the steel hand of the Spartan grabbed onto his fist, The Spartan began to crush it slowly. Seraph screamed out in pain, dropping to his knees, body threatening to give in to the drugs and fatigue. “I told you to just play dead, didn’t I?” The Spartan said, letting out a cold condescending laugh. Seraph was in too much pain to give any semblance of a fuck to the man’s words, preparing himself to try one last desperate move; However, he wasn’t expecting to be picked up by the same metal hands crushing his own. “Well hopefully you can heal fast.” Those were the last words he heard before the sound of rushing air, and the sight of a ever-growing wall filled his senses. Then, there was nothing but sweet blackness. Category:Blog posts